


falling

by prosodiical



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max and Chloe, after the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cherith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherith/gifts).



Max stands on the edge of a precipice, and all she can think of is falling. A butterfly flaps its wings and the world is doomed and Max is standing on glass and she looks out, down into the abyss.

"C'mon, Maximus," Chloe says, her arms wrapping around Max's waist as she rests her chin on Max's shoulder, and Max thinks: _this is what I did_ and can't feel guilty for the gentle smile on Chloe's face. Chloe laughs when Max turns her head, presses a quick peck to her Chloe's cheek before Chloe can break away; Chloe's fingers curl around Max's wrist and they walk out onto glass and air.

The canyon is vast and awesome, for the original meaning of the word. Max looks down at the slow immutable wear of water against rock and takes a photo; then another of Chloe, leaning out from the glass balcony, fading blue hair whipping in the wind with the background a blur of shading red. Chloe looks at her and grins, pulling Max closer and Max smiles into the camera, Chloe's arms around her shoulders, enough for a perfect shot.

It's the Grand Canyon, and then on again. Chloe drives to Niagara Falls and they spend three nights there in a backpacker's, curled up together on a single bed, Chloe gasping, shaking when Max kisses her and Max can't tell if she's crying. During the day they walk around the rushing, pounding sound of water and Max tries not to think of all the things she's lost while Chloe slowly fractures under supporting her weight, the endless circle of thoughts Max can't help falling into, death and time and everything that went wrong. The spray catches in Chloe's hair, glittering in the sunlight as she sits on the rail, looking like she's about to fall; Max takes a photo because she has nothing else, and then she laces her fingers with Chloe's and pulls her back to ground.

They get into a screaming, shouting fight on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, water stretching out for what seems like forever; Chloe says: "Why did you pick me, Max, if this is what it does to you?" and Max, shaking, furious: "I thought you wanted to live!" Chloe stares at her uncomprehending and Max swallows back words terrible and they stare at each other over a gap too wide to breach.

"It was you," Chloe says. "You need to get the fuck over yourself, Max."

Max swallows and looks away; over the expanse of blue water into sky, the birds wheeling in the breeze. "Chloe," she says, but when she looks back Chloe's shaking her head, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I - "

"Don't say it unless you mean it," Chloe says, and she turns on her heel and walks back to the truck.

Max sits on the silt-turned-sand and watches the waves as the sun slides over the sky, one long-exposure photograph of a day; when she heads back the truck smells like pot and Chloe looks - tired, resigned. "I'm sorry," Max says, and "I'm trying."

Chloe looks at her and reaches out, grabs Max's hand and tugs her into the passenger seat. "Yeah," she says, "I know. Let's go."

Max kisses her like an absolution; Chloe bites at her lip and leaves scratches down her back like a punishment but there are a million days ahead of them, a million nights between them, and slowly their edges wear down again. 

They're in a too-familiar diner in Texas, vinyl-squeaky seats and a jukebox in a corner, truckers and police in a tiny town and Chloe is across the table frowning down at the menu when Max realizes, "I don't regret it."

Chloe looks up, meeting her gaze over the plastic laminated menus, and Max says, "I don't."

Chloe's mouth twitches, half a smile. "Hey," she says, "for what it's worth - I don't either."

Max holds her hand under the table and they share a plate of pancakes, watching the rise of the sun.


End file.
